


Silent Night

by LivingOnTheEdge5



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas memories, Inferred cannibalism, M/M, Murder Family, Off-Screen Murder, a parting of the ways, christmas gifts, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingOnTheEdge5/pseuds/LivingOnTheEdge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal, Will and Abigail spend a Christmas together on the run.</p><p>Written for the Hannigram Holiday Gift Exchange 2015<br/>Requester's prompt : " I really would be quite happy wit[h]anything Hannigram. Could be sweet, could be gory, could be both. I actually would love both.<br/>I really do like Murder Family though so if someone is willing to add Abigail in there that would be cool.</p><p>Well... I tried dear ajninkon...hope you enjoy it and Happy Holidays :0)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

" _You were supposed to leave..."_

_Will turns to face The Enemy who ironically is the closest thing resembling a friend he's ever had._

_"We didn't want to leave without you."_

 A stabbing pain shoots through Will's body and he starts awake.

 Out of the velvet darkness a hand finds his and latches-on; large, strong, sure.

"You were having the dream again."

 "Yeah."

 Will rolls over; Hannibal is startlingly close,  the warm air of his breath stirs against Will's face.

 "Hannibal? Will?"

 A soft voice is calling from the other side of the closed bedroom door.

 The grove of ancient Sequoias their chateau is nestled beneath allows little sunlight to filter through at high noon; at this midnight hour, their room is plunged into pitchy blackness.

 "We're here Abigail. Everything is alright."

 Hannibal's voice is calm and comforting. Will hears the door creak open; the small voice calls again, louder now. "I thought I heard..."

 Will can imagine the girl, starting awake, hearing _that_ sound again, padding down the drafty hallways to hover just outside their door, afraid to enter, but also afraid to leave.

 As though reading Will's thoughts, Hannibal clicks-on his bedside lamp and beckons to the girl in the doorway. "It was just a dream. Come- up for a few minutes," he offers, pointing to the foot of the massive bed.

 "Are you both decent?"

 Abigail's voice has a smile in it, though her eyes remain large and solemn. She runs across the chilly hardwood and jumps onto the bed like a little child. Will crawls out of the warm bedclothes to help drape a white throw around her back  before returning to his spot beside Hannibal. The girl snuggles down into its fluffy warmth, grinning with impish contentment at her two fathers.

 "I don't think I've been decent for decades," Hannibal remarks thoughtfully, then turns to smile at Will. "Can't speak for this one though."

 Will chuckles and settles back onto the pillows thinking how young and vulnerable Abigail looks; looks can be deciding.

 "It's snowing."

 "Is it?"

 "Yes... Can we all go skiing tomorrow?"

 "If I can tear your papa away from the kitchen," Will teases, interlocking his fingers with Hannibal's and bringing his hand to his lips.

Hannibal smiles, showing all his canines.

 "I've modified a traditional Lithuanian meal but there are, nonetheless, many dishes to prepare. How about a midnight ski tomorrow night? If the moon is bright enough?"

 Abigail nods her acquiescence then wrinkles her nose. "I read the article you bookmarked for me. Are you really going to make twelve dishes? None of them with meat!?"

 They all laugh at the irony.

 "Well...since I am lacking both poppy seeds and wheat porridge, this is going to be a hybrid of traditions. Now...back to bed... tomorrow is a busy day. "

 Abigail climbs down, unwinds and refolds the blanket before drapping it across the foot of the bed.

 "Good night Hannibal, goodnight, Will," she calls sweetly.

 "Goodnight dear heart."

 "Goodnight Abbie... or should I say, Merry Christmas Eve?"

 Abigail grins and returns the greeting before shutting the door behind her. She walks down the corridors towards her own suite of rooms. But when she reaches the living room she stops, held rapt by the view she'd been too worried to savor before.

 Three solid plate-glass windows and a massive fireplace make-up one side of the vast, open space. A few red coals are still glowing from deep within the firebox.  Abigail goes to stand on the hearth, relishing it's warmth. She gazes out the window and her breath catches: large, feathery snowflakes drift down in a thick, blanketing snowfall. Even in the midnight gloom, their perfect, white purity stands-out against the rich, dark red bark of the old growth trees.

The world is completely still.

 Abigail watches the snow fall for a long time; until her chattering teeth and ice cold feet can no longer be ignored. With one last, happy glance at the Christmas tree shining in the corner she hurries off to bed.

 ---------------------------------  
Hannibal is up early, preparing the dishes for the feast they'll share that night; traditionally when the first star appears in the sky.

 Tired-out from his disturbed slumber Will sleeps on. When he finally wakes he showers and dresses before going to search for his family.

Hannibal's kitchen is host to such a cacophony of smells, even Will's coffee-attuned nose is unable to pick-out its fragrant scent in the midst of it all.

 "Coffee?"

 "In the carafe."

 Just as he's turning away, Will's shoulders are grabbed and he's pulled into an embrace like a steel vice. But he's smiling as his lips are crushed against Hannibal's. Sinewy fingers stroke Will's penis through his slacks; sensuous lips swallow his startled gasp. 

 "Linksmų Kalėdų," Hannibal purrs, finally letting Will up for air.

 Will swallows.

 "It's not Christmas yet," he pants.

 Hannibal's hand runs down past Will's rapidly hardening cock to his balls.

 "No...but tonight we celebrate."

 "A-hem!?"Abigail is standing on the other side of the island. "If you're going to bend him over the counter, can I watch?" She asks pertly.

 Will's pale neck flushes pink and he tries to pull away from Hannibal's grip. "We're not doing anything Abbie," he assures her, even as one of Hannibal's hands is snaking down the middle of his ass crack.

 "Right... sure... uh huh! Hannibal? Where do you want all the straw and stuff?"

 Hannibal flips Will around so his back is flush against the taller man's chest. Will feels the hard press of Hannibal's erection against his tailbone. "Strewn along the middle of the table," Hannibal replies, while nonchalantly grinding his cock up and down against Will.

 Mockingly, Abigail covers her eyes with her hands then merrily peers through her fingers. "Please wait until I'm out of the room!" The girl sasses, grinning widely before turning and fleeing.

 Will manages to pull out of Hannibal's arms and shoots him a supercilious look as he heads for the coffee. "Something about cold beet soup and sauerkraut that makes you particularly horny?"

 Hannibal smiles at him with shining eyes as he watches Will pour himself a cup of coffee; Will holds it up.

 "Want one?"

 "Yes, please. Black one sugar." Hannibal re-washes his hands and turns back to his dumpling making.

 "What sort of meat is in there?" Will asks as he places the cup beside Hannibal's workspace.

 "Minced."

 Will tilts his head and shoots the man an exasperated look.

 "Clearly...do I really need to clarify myself?"

 Hannibal smiles roguishly, the corners of his eyes crinkling; Will's own face beams in response, sometimes he can't believe how his life has turned-out.

 "Well, it's what you might call a 'toss-up.' I was in a hurry and didn't label properly; could be the ranger, could be the hunter."

 Will's smile bleeds off his face. The ranger had been business... not personal. But the hunter was a man who'd cornered Abigail in the back of a truck stop and felt her up. They'd tracked him back to his cabin and slaughtered both him and his buddy.

 "Hmmm...well I hope you blend your flavors properly; none of those guys seemed all that fond of personal hygiene ... or palatable beer."

 Hannibal bows his head in agreement, his hands, working from muscle memory, fly as they fill, twist and close the little dumplings before depositing them onto a large platter.

 "There's poppy seed strudel... or saffron brioche if you'd care for something savory."

 "Thanks, this all looks delicious. I'm going to go bring in some more wood...and then don't you need me to wrap a present for Abbie?" He whispers looking through the breezeway to the dining room where Abigail is busy decorating the table while humming a Christmas carol.

 "Yes, there are two in my top drawer; the paper and ribbon is in our closet."

 Will leans in and kisses Hannibal's ear and rubs his unshaven face against the other man's smooth cheek.

 "Ar myli mane?" He smiles, and waits for the response which always follows.

"Aš tave myliu...but I'd love you more if you shaved once in a while."

"I thought I did," Will purrs seductively and Hannibal snorts at the saucy innuendo.

"A bit further up this time, please. The woodsman look is all very charming unless you're rimming me."

He gently head butts Will. "See you after you're done? You can help me with the potatoes."

"Alright." Will places one last kiss on  Hannibal's shoulder and goes to dress for his chores.

\--------------------------------------

"Well Abigail, what did you think of the meal?"

Hannibal, Will and the girl are all sitting around the fire after dinner; Will and Hannibal are drinking brandy, while Abigail sips hard cider.

"It was...interesting! I don't think I've ever had fruit soup before...or herring."

Hannibal leans forward and gazes into the amber flames, his eyes are soft and unfocused.

"When I was young, our cook would make those herring rolls..." he begins introspectively.

Will and Abigail catch one another's eye; Hannibal rarely speaks about his childhood. "Mischa called them "pincushions" and always refused to eat them," he chuckles. "After the big meal, we would gather in the best parlor. The grown-ups would all be drinking cider except for my grandfather; he always drank medus; mead." Hannibal sits back and winks at Abigail." My grandfather was a great Sherlock Holmes enthusiast ."

Abigail smiles, eyes glowing, and cuddles down between the two men with her knees tucked against her chest.

"Soon... there would be a loud rap on the mahogany pocket doors...that would always scare the baby...the housekeeper would slid them open...and Senis Šaltis would come striding in; smelling of pines and woodsmoke and dusted with a layer of snow."

He smiles at Will over Abigail's head then gazes back into the fire. "Of course I knew it was just the head gardener's nephew dressed-up, so I had no qualms about going to him when he called me over."

"What would he do? Ask if you'd been a good boy?" Abigail teases; she has a hard time imagining Hannibal as a little child.

"Yes, he would quiz me." Hannibal boops Abigail's nose then reaches along the couch back to tangle his fingers in Will's hair and stroke his head.

The man falls silent; the fire crackles and pops.

"Then what happened?"

"Then? Well, then we were each given presents from Senis Šaltis' burlap sack and my father or an uncle would offer him a warm drink, which he always accepted.The cousins and I would be given the task of serving him fresh Kruscuki, fried cookies. After Senis Šaltis had eaten and warmed himself, he wished us all ' Linksmų Kalėdų ir laimingų Naujųjų metų' and left the way he came-in. The adults would begin another round of drinks and the whole family would sing Christmas carols. Just before we children were sent to bed, we were allowed to open our presents."

 Abigail smiles, though it's tinged with sadness.

 "Do you miss it? Your family I mean?"

Hannibal's fingers in Will's hair stop for a brief moment before moving again. Will reaches round to cup the back of Hannibal's neck with his warm, calloused hand and squeezes it softly.

"I don't actually..."

Hannibal suddenly jumps to his feet and turns, smiling, towards the startled girl and man still seated on the couch. "But perhaps...that is only because I have a new family."

He walks over to the Christmas tree, takes down two boxes, and brings them to Abigail.

"Linksmų Kalėdų, dearheart. Open the smaller one first. "

Abigail looks up into Hannibal's face and slowly takes the boxes.

"Two? But I don't have anything for you guys!"

"That's okay, Abbie," Will assures her, smiling up at his lover's face, "we don't need anything."

Abigail rips open the wrapping and opens the first box. Inside are  exquisite moonstone earrings and a matching pendant.

"So you always have a reminder that your two fathers would give you the moon, " Hannibal explains, sitting down beside Will, and sliding his arm around the other man's waist to pull him in tight.

"Thank you...they're...they're beautiful," Abigail says, her blue eyes shimmering in the firelight.

"You're welcome...now, the other one."

 Abigail opens the next box and frowns as the lid comes off; it contains folded documents. Her mouth drops when Hannibal explains what the papers mean: a contract for an intensive Parisian language program, a deed to an apartment in Paris' Latin Quarter, and a letter of provisional acceptance to the Université Paris 5 René Descartes.

 Abigail's lifts dazed yet dancing eyes to her fathers.

"Does this mean...?"

"Yes...we are moving to France, where, after you complete the language program, you will be accepted into Université Paris 5 René Descartes as an undergraduate."

"And the apartment?"

"It's a little studio...you can see Le  Tour Eiffel from its balcony."

"Studio? But that means..."

Hannibal reaches over and takes her small hand.

"We'll stay long enough to help settle you in."

Abigail looks down at the papers. When she looks up again, her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. "Time to grow-up," she states calmly.

"Time to begin your own life," Hannibal corrects her, wiping a single tear from her cheek with his thumb. "But we will always be just a phone call away."

Will swallows around the lump in his throat. "We'll always be your dads. Even when you're an old, married lady."

"I know... thank you...and Merry Christmas."

Abigail stands up and wraps one thin arm around each of her father's necks. They hug her back and Hannibal kisses the top of her smooth head.

"Merry Christmas dear heart." He murmurs before releasing her and smiling around at his small family.

"Now...who's up for that midnight ski?"

 

 


End file.
